


can you hear (the universe is calling)

by natsubaki



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Developing Relationship, Falling In Love, Fluff, Heartbeats Zine, Light Angst, M/M, Memories, Missing Scene, Onsen On Ice
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-14
Updated: 2018-03-14
Packaged: 2019-03-18 12:59:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,745
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13682178
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/natsubaki/pseuds/natsubaki
Summary: It’s everything he needs to hear, everything he’s wanted to hear for so long.(It's tradition to eat katsudon after a win.)





	can you hear (the universe is calling)

**Author's Note:**

> This fic was originally written for the [Heartbeats zine](https://heartbeatszine.tumblr.com/post/170874681298/happy-valentines-day-everyone-the-heartbeats), with the love language theme of Words of Affirmation!

Stepped out, a hand down.

After early frigid mornings ending in exhausting late nights at the rink, bruised and broken toenails, a literal uphill (and once, mountain) battle to unload five months’ worth of depression weight, he still hadn’t been perfect. At his first public skate since he’d believed everything had been over, Yuuri wanted to have been perfect. But what he’d done had been enough. Enough to win, enough to keep Victor’s attention, enough to keep Victor _here_.

Enough to feel worthy again.

It could have been worse.

He tries not to dwell on it.

Yuuri can’t remember the last time he had a reason to feel good about himself. Bombing out at the Grand Prix Final had kicked off a long string of failures, eroding his pride in any previous achievements he’d accomplished, even washing out the thrill of finally graduating after having to take a “victory lap” year at university. Due to his disastrous results at Nationals, Yuuri hadn’t even been able to qualify for the Four Continents or World Championships—surely, these were all signs that the universe was telling him to retire.

He still hasn’t found any humor in the situation, but perhaps if the universe had tried calling just a little bit sooner, he could have been spared the embarrassment.

And yet-

Mere months later, he finds himself skating to the cheers of his hometown with reborn purpose. All thanks to Victor.

And here, _now_. Under the soft light of the onsen’s lanterns, head pillowed atop crossed arms on the table, Yuuri is happy. It’s funny how things work out, sometimes.

The sleepy drunks have cleared out or been guided into rooms, Mari and his parents have retreated upstairs, and it’s just Yuuri and Victor in the silence of the main room. Even Makkachin has retreated to Yuuri’s bedroom, where he is a sometimes-overnight guest. Empty bottles of sake and beer litter the tables and lie abandoned on the tatami, casting shadows that glow emerald, and the faint scent of tobacco hangs from used ashtrays. Deep bowls bear the remnants of celebratory katsudon: a sprinkling of rice grains sticking to the sides of the ceramic, a smear of egg arcing along the edge, breadcrumbs clinging to the tips of chopsticks. The bouquet from the event stands sentinel at the entrance with the rest of Yuuri’s accomplishments, artfully arranged by Minako into a sturdy vase.

Victor sits beside him at the low table, a light flush coloring his fair cheeks. He’s humming lightly to himself, a childlike grin on his face as he fumbles with a square of paper, trying to mimic the crane Yuuri had made earlier.

“They say,” Yuuri begins as he pokes at the paper bird, “that if you fold a thousand of these, your wish will be granted.”

Victor perks up at the words, his hands never faltering. “Oh? Have you ever done it, then?”

Yuuri laughs. “No, I never had the patience or time.”

Victor smirks and slides a piece of paper over to Yuuri from the stack in front of him, careful to avoid the puddles of spilt alcohol. He continues folding. “Only nine hundred and ninety-eight, now. See? I’m helping.”

“‘Only,’” Yuuri chimes, but a grin tugs at the corner of his mouth. Victor is unlike anything he ever imagined in his wildest dreams. He’s every bit the Living Legend the media makes him out to be, but he’s also ridiculous and demanding, playful and cutting, but above all, Victor is kind. It’s crazy that Yuuri is talking so easily with Victor like this, after a lifetime of admiring him from a distance. “Yuuko-chan tried it once,” he says, dredging up the memory from his pleasantly-fogged brain. “She even roped me and Nishigori into helping her, but between school, practice, and competitions...well, we never finished. And then she and Nishigori graduated, and then it didn’t really matter.”

“What do you mean?” Victor asks without looking up from his task. A small crease forms between his brows as he presses along creases in paper, creating small valleys and mountaintops as he opens and turns the page.

Yuuri leans over and prods at Victor’s work, guiding his actions. Victor is terrible at this, but his eyes shine with the kind of determination born only from an excess of liquor. Yuuri smiles. This must be what Victor feels like when he’s coaching him.

“Because Takeshi proposed. Her wish came true anyway.”

His heart feels heavy saying it aloud, but with Victor at his side, a warmth floods over Yuuri, soothing the old ache of impossible childhood dreams.

“Amazing,” Victor wonders. He’s folded and unfolded the poor bit of paper so much that the little gold foil accents have started to rub away. “What would you have wished for?”

He doesn’t even have to think, the answer is so automatic. “Probably...to meet you.” Now Yuuri feels a little _too_ warm.

But Victor smiles, in that dazzling way that he does, “And eat katsudon with me?” he finishes without missing a beat. “Then your wish came true, too, and you didn’t even need to go through the trouble of this!” He flicks his worn paper across the table; it looks more like an aardvark than a crane.

Yuuri adores it anyway. He picks it up gingerly, careful not to crush Victor’s hard work. It’s definitely nowhere near the semblance of a bird. “What would you ask for?” he says absently, not really knowing what kind of answer to expect. He’s talking with Victor Nikiforov, of all people. Gorgeous, successful, aspirational, five-time World Champion Victor Nikiforov, who is so flawless he practically embodies the hashtag #goals.

Rather than the immediate response Yuuri anticipates, Victor instead goes silent and presses his index finger against his lips. Hums. Looks into the distance, a small retreat, almost blankly. Yuuri feels a shattering disconnection.

“Victor?” he tries again, leaning forward.

Victor blinks. Smiles. It’s a gentle smile, not like the ones he gives so freely. He places his hand over Yuuri’s wrist and squeezes. Yuuri feels an irrational desire to turn his hand over and grasp the other man’s in his own. It fades just as quickly as it flashes.

“I’m very proud of you, and I hope you’re proud of yourself,” Victor murmurs. “I know you have it in you. You could win it all.”

There’s a constricting in Yuuri’s chest that borders on painful, pushing the air from his lungs. They barely know each other—have really just only met—yet Victor is so earnest in his support that Yuuri can scarcely believe this is all real. “Victor, I… It’s all because of you,” he returns thickly, his eyes prickling.

Because it’s true. And it’s everything he needs to hear, everything he’s wanted to hear for so long.

“What did I do beside provide the steps,” Victor laughs, loud and filling the room. “Everything else was you. _You_ brought that performance to life by putting yourself into it.” He grins widely, straight white teeth on full display, and reaches out, combing his fingers through the fine hairs at Yuuri’s temple. “You were incredible. It makes me wonder what other hidden charms you’ll reveal.”

Yuuri grabs Victor’s hand and holds it, pressing it against his cheek. It’s cold, his glasses are askew, and his face is burning, but he needs to anchor Victor there, in this moment, lest he disappear as suddenly as he appeared.

“I don’t want you to leave,” he whispers, as though vocalizing the fear would give it weight.

“I’m not going anywhere. We agreed, right?”

A strangled bark of laughter escapes before he can tamp it down. “You’re not good with promises.”

“This isn’t a promise,” Victor says. His eyes, normally so bright, are dark and serious. If it were anyone else, it would be unsettling. His pale eyelashes bear a stark contrast. “This is what I want to do.”

Yuuri’s eyes sting, the sharp acridity spreading down to his nose, through his ears. This isn’t the time to cry. He’s an ugly crier. He does it anyway, hot tracks streaming down his face. It’s so embarrassing, he’s always fucking crying, but tonight and _this_ is all too much, and Yuuri’s inexperienced heart doesn’t know how to cope.

Victor brings his free hand against the other side of Yuuri’s face and cups his cheeks, wiping the tears away with his thumbs. There are calluses right at the tips where the cold has cut into his skin. “Why are you crying?”

There are too many reasons he can say, all too difficult to explain, so he says nothing.

Before his resolve can be riddled by hesitance, Yuuri dives forward and wraps his arms around Victor, burying his face into the other man’s shoulder. The cloth of the inn’s jinbei is scratchy against his face, but underneath it, Yuuri can hear the strong staccato of Victor’s heart. Familiar and unfamiliar layered together, and both comforting beyond measure.

He still doesn’t really know exactly what it is he wants from Victor, only that he wants so much. He wants so much more than he’ll probably ever deserve or get.

But this is fine. Tonight is fine. He hadn’t been perfect, but this moment, right now, is all he needs.

It’s the beginning of the end of his career—the _real_ end, not the flunk-out he’d almost succumbed to—and that’s fine. It _has_ to be fine. Yuuri doesn’t know what the future will hold, if he can even make good on his proclamation of winning the Grand Prix Series, but he does know this:

Unknowingly, when he’d found himself at his lowest, Yuuri had sent his own call out to the universe. And in the strangest manner, it had answered.

Victor is here, at his side. And no matter what, he will prove to the world, to Victor, to himself, that he was worth it. That this won’t have been a waste of Victor’s time.

Even if he stepped out of his quad salchow. Even if he had to touch the ice to stay upright. He has a whole season to get it right.

To get it perfect.

As long as Victor stays close.

“I told you, didn’t I? I’ll make your wish come true. You won’t even need those cranes,” Victor says, quiet, as he rubs tiny circles between Yuuri’s shoulders. “You and me, we’ll make it together.”

They fall asleep on the tatami, their hands still intertwined.

**Author's Note:**

> Comments & kudos are ♥. Catch me on [Twitter](http://twitter.com/kaguneesan).


End file.
